The Walk She walked down the dirt road. The gravel crunched underneath her shivering steps. The wind moaned a the sad cry of a howling dog. She stepped past branches and twigs lying on the forest floor. She tore through the tree limbs as they grabbed for her clothes. She walked until she could see her footprints no more. She came to a gentle pool as dark as the night sky. She sat down and cried. She was lost, sad, utterly miserable. She would never find her way home. When suddenly, she found herself drowning as she could see the forest through her watery tomb. She screamed but nothing came out. She could not save herself. She could do nothing to stop her impending death. Nothing, but walk away, for it was her reflection. Isabella Moncada
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